


this is a failed state

by wan (kuro49)



Category: ACCA13区監察課 | ACCA 13-ku Kansatsuka
Genre: Multi, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-02
Updated: 2017-04-02
Packaged: 2018-10-13 23:09:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10523871
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kuro49/pseuds/wan
Summary: Or the one where Jean willingly fronts the coup for his favourite chief officer.





	

**Author's Note:**

> no one can convince me that jean's confession to mauve in that finale was not about how the two of them are completely into grossular. 
> 
> and bc i enjoy lilium a lot, i threw him in too. here is another thing that no one asked for.

 

“I like him,” Jean tells him in that same tone of voice, with that same leveling gaze in his eyes, and Lilium almost lets out a laugh in place of a response.

Jean Otus has the poker face of the century. If Lilium doesn’t know for a fact that this man before him is of royal blood, he would guess that he is someone to have been born and raised in Yakkara, playing hand after hand without a single tell. Whereas Jean goes for indifference every time, Lilium’s mouth twists the same and it is not entirely unkind when he doesn't lie.

Lilium has to wonder whether they are all that different after all.

“What a coincidence,” Lilium says, smiling, in that way he always does, “I do too.”

 

Jean trails his mouth down his spine, from between his shoulder blades to the hollow dip at the small of his back. He doesn’t bite, unlike Lilium who leaves claims upon claims like there is any way he could forget. Instead, he kisses him and he is fervent and it is everything Grossular has no heart left to say _no_ to, not when Jean has him leaning into every soft sweeping touch like he is craving for something much closer than the simple press of skin to skin.

“Can I?” Jean asks for permission every time, his palms fitting over the jut of Grossular’s hips, fingertips pressing into the bone, a grazing kind of back and forth as he waits with patience.

From the corner of his eyes, Grossular can see Lilium’s smile, and it is a wretched thing that blossoms across that mouth until it is all Grossular can focus on. He feels like he’s got a hand at his throat even without the pressure, another in his hair clenching. He wants to know why he has such a hard time letting go of what will clearly end badly for himself. There is the smear of lube down the inside of his thighs, spit dragged across the heat of his skin, and Jean spreading his fingers apart to open him up further.

He can tell the difference but he doesn’t have a name for it.

_Like_ can mean a great deal of many things.

He says _yes_ like he has any idea what he is agreeing to when he turns from Lilium to Jean. Jean trails from spine to shoulder to jaw then mouth. Lilium's expression does not change.

Grossular kisses Jean harder than he has to.

 

He comes to Jean remembering that day even if he doesn't tell him.

The derailed train, the list of names, the high school boy in those thick black frames, and the hand he lays down on those shoulders. He doesn't say those same words he has repeated with the same careful respect, _I am sorry for your loss._ In fact, he doesn't say anything at all. It is the same now.

He comes to him, and there is something much like poetic justice when Jean puts his hand on his shoulder and lets Grossular ease himself down.

 

“Feels good?” Lilium asks, a hand trailing where Jean’s mouth tracked, blunt edge of his fingernails drawing thin white lines that fade into pink across Grossular’s skin. The man has his head lowered, tipped down and forward. His knees are digging into the soft mattress on either side of Jean as he fucks himself down, mouth parted to pull in each ragged shaky breath that settles heavy in his lungs like a deep inhale of Jean’s smoke.

Lilium catches Jean’s eyes from over Grossular’s shoulders, his mouth wane and pleased when Jean gives him a soft groan in place of an answer.

Grossular doesn’t quite freeze but it comes close when there is his hand in his hair, pushing it aside. He feels the dry press of Lilium's mouth to the nape of his neck. He feels the scrape of teeth before the next words come, murmured against the shell of his ears. Grossular goes along with it even if Lilium doesn’t force his hand.

“The chief officer likes a little more.” He tells him while they can both feel the slight shake in the muscles of Grossular’s thighs as he fills him to the hilt. “He likes it like this, Otus.”

There is the slight burn of the initial push, the obscene stretch, and now the press of Lilium’s dripping wet digits alongside of Jean’s cock. Grossular accommodates that too.

He lets out a noise that might have been their names.

 

Even if he has to tilt his head up at Grossular who is kneeling over him, here is the first time Jean has seen the chief officer at the mercy of men. He has seen this man in and out of uniform. He has seen him bear the same rank in Rokkusu even without the ACCA name sewn into his clothes. Grossular carries himself the same.

He wants to make him hear white noise, he wants to make him see stars burst.

(He would also willingly front the coup and accept the throne if he asks these things of him.)

Nino will probably call him sentimental when he lets it slip the next time they go drinking. But Nino has seen that afghan throw he still has, the one Lotta knows not to use. The one with the stripped pattern a stark reminder of the man he respects above all , the one thing that he bought for himself as a souvenir on his first trip to Rokkusu when he made second in command of the inspection department.

Jean thinks of the same memory again: Rokkusu taking sole responsibility of the accident. That very moment where he thinks that this is what he wants to become.

 

“What do you have planned for him?”

He starts.

“Are you worried?”

Grossular doesn’t answer _always_ like he wants to. Instead, he stands to be a little bit diplomatic. He allows himself to take Lilium at face value, with stoicism and poise that is running thin. He turns the words around in his head and corrects himself. “What are you going to make him do?”

Because Jean Otus is a means to an end. And the end is near.

“You think I'm going to corrupt royalty, aren’t you?” Lilium laughs, it reaches the corners of his mouth but not quite his eyes. “If you’re worried about our prince, don’t be.”

Grossular doesn't know what he wants from this man before him but Lilium is not as conceited as to tell him to trust him this time around.

 

("You should worry about yourself first."

This still goes unsaid however.)

 

Jean Otus can be made king.

That is, without a doubt, the end game here. But here, where Lilium can see Jean's mouth kissing up Grossular's throat, tongue trailing where his teeth sink down, the Lilium family takes second place. It is a sentiment that will remain long pass the end.

 


End file.
